Mrs. D. [humbly, like a child reminded of its promise to behave]. Get another pair, and let me go. [Tucks a final rose, or bunch of violets into the bosom of her dress, turns to leave the room, then pauses to draw back the curtains and look at the dolls. Speaks gushingly.] Aren't they lovely, the hundred of them? Did you ever see such a sight? One prettier than the other! I almost wish I were one of the little girls, myself!
Bonnet. Them that gets them will be made happy, surely, ma'am. I suppose it's for some Christmas Tree?
Mrs. D. They are for my cousin Dorel's Orphans. Pick up, Bonny. Open the windows. Mind you tell Jackson to look at the furnace. I shall not be very late—not later than twelve. [Exit.]
[Bonnet moves briskly about, straightening
the room, with no affectation of soft-stepping.
She digresses from her labors
to get a black skirt from the bedroom,
which she examines critically, then replaces. A knock.
Man's voice [only a shade less respectful than before]. Miss Pittock is waiting below, ma'am.
Bonnet. Very well, I'll be down directly. [Exit, and re-enter at once with a rather old-fashioned cloak and bonnet, which she dons before the glass.] I hope I haven't kept Miss Pittock waiting. [Looks contemptuously at her wrap.] She looks quite more than the lady in her mistress's last year's cape. They say the shops is a sight to behold this year—I haven't a minute to get a look at them myself—and it do seem as if people made more to-do about Christmas than they used. I wonder what kind of shops Miss Pittock'll fancy most. I'd rather see the show-windows in the Grand Bazaar first. They do have the most amazing show there. Anyway, we've got plenty of time. Her lady won't be home before twelve, and no more will mine. [Turns down gas, and exit.]
[Enter Catherine, in a coat, with jet spangles
and a hat with nodding plumes.
Turns up gas, and looks about her while
drawing on a pair of tight gloves. Enter
Sally and Tibbie in outdoor wraps,
shawls, and "comforters."
Sally. Oh, Miss Catherine, I didn't know where you was. I thought maybe you was gone.
Tibbie [hanging back]. You didn't tell me! You didn't tell me!
Catherine. Now you'll be sure she don't touch anything, Sally. [Looks Tibbie over.]